One of my all-time favorite features over on Deadspin was the Mighty MJD’s Smorgasbord. It was always hysterically funny. In honor of the fella last week who asked me, completely straight-faced, if I “understood football” because I’m a girl, I thought I’d put together a Smorgasbord of my own, though mine encompasses the whole weekend and won’t be nearly as funny as MJD’s.
Thursday, 1:20 pm to 5:00 pm: a very exciting 12-inning Cubs/Brewers game, where our seats were close enough to the bullpen that I could’ve thrown my panties at Rich Harden, Neal Cotts or Jeff Samardzija. I chose not to, but I totally could have.
Thursday, 5:30 pm: I saw this at the Dark Horse tavern afterwards:
Cutest little girl ever. I’m starting to think the only reason I even want kids is so I can dress them up. If you think my little girl(s) won’t have Iowa Hawkeye cheerleading uniforms, you are sadly mistaken. (They can have football jerseys too, I’m not totally sexist.)
Friday, 1:45 pm: I got off Chicago’s red line train at Addison and found a guy selling tickets to the Cubs/Cards game. They were $22 face-value, but as I reached for my money he said, “No, no. You’re beautiful. Enjoy the game.” Then he smiled at me and had approximately 3 teeth. It was a very sweet thing to do and… hey, free game! But it made me feel a little like Gisele in Enchanted when she asks the hobo for a smile to lift her spirits and he has no teeth. Eek.
Friday, 2:30 pm: The Cardinals were already up 8-0 when I got to the game, which was awesome because Zambrano was pitching and taking him out behind the woodshed ranks #3 on my list of Favorite Things, right above a dirty martini but right below the first season of Veronica Mars.
Friday, 2:40 pm: However, I was disappointed that maybe I’d missed all the excitement. Until Ryan Ludwick hit a 2-run homer and I sent my brother the following text message: “I was sad I missed all the scoring, until Luddy just hit a 2-run homer. He must’ve heard I was coming.” My brother responded: “Obviously.”
Friday, 5:30 pm: I went to Salt & Pepper, a diner near Wrigley, to get something to eat and tap into the wireless internet from the Goose Island next door. I sat at a four-top, but then a big party came in and the waitress asked me to move. No biggie. Until one of the middle-aged guys in the party yelled, “GET UP!” really loudly. At first I thought he was joking around, until I saw how serious his face was and heard the nervous laughter of his kids. Watch out, kids! Dad’s been drinkin’!
Friday, 6:00 pm: I met up with some people at Sluggers. In trying to worm my way through the crowded main room to the upstairs, I had beer spilled on me 3 times, a Jell-o shot dropped down the front of my shirt, and my ass slapped twice. Drunk guys are the best!
Friday, 8:30 pm: in the beer garden at The Dark Horse (a great bar in Wrigleyville, btw), two women had a very little girl with them. They were letting her run around all willy-nilly. Now, call me old-fashioned, but maybe the beer garden at a bar isn’t the best place to have your 2 year-old run amok. The family with the Harry Caray girl from above was at the tavern for dinner and promptly left. These ladies were there at night, drinking and not eating, and pretty much ignoring the little girl. Hmmm.
Saturday, 10:30 am: My friend Alyssa and I met up with her brother and his friends at Sedgwick’s for the Iowa game. Sedgwick’s used to be a Hawkeye bar. It is now decorated in blue & orange and has the Illini flag hanging in the front window. Gross.
Saturday, 10:40 am: I order a Bloody Mary and ask for it to be extra spicy. The waitress says, “They come pre-mixed.” I respond, “Well, you have Tabasco sauce, right?” She just walks away. I hear her tell the bartender to make it extra spicy, then point at me, then hear the bartender say, “It’s already mixed.” The waitress says something, then the bartender huffs off and proceeds to put so much Tabasco sauce in my drink that it is almost inconsumable. Yes, because GOD FORBID you have to do something in a service-industry job that is slightly above and beyond the normal daily drill.
Saturday, 10:50 am: The bartender gets a little shirty with me for asking him to turn the sound on for the Iowa game instead of his Matchbox 20 CD. He’s lucky he didn’t get a Bloody Mary thrown in his face. And with the amount of Tabasco in that sucker, I probably would’ve blinded him.
Saturday, 10:55 am: a cute Dave Annabel-lookalike comes into the bar for the Iowa game. We make eye contact a few times. Woo woo.
Saturday, 11:00 am: Jake Christensen starts at QB for Iowa.
Saturday, 11:45 am: Ricky Stanzi comes in at QB for Iowa.
Saturday, 1:45 pm: Jake Christensen comes back in at QB and cannot drive down the field to score with either 4 minutes left or 2 minutes left. We get Wannstached, 21-20. Booooo. Pick a goddamn quarterback, Ferentz!
Saturday, 1:50 pm: Cute Dave Annabel-lookalike leaves the bar without having talked to me. Bummer.
Saturday, 3:00 pm: Alyssa and I look for a fun, hoppin’ place to watch the Notre Dame game and the Cubs/Cards game. We decide on Durkin’s, a Purdue bar at Halsted and Diversey.
Saturday, 3:15 pm: We chat with 3 Purdue boys who go by Sandwich, Polar Bear and Sex Panther. It was like we found the Delta Tau Chi brothers. They promptly invite us to a party that is literally next door to Wrigley.
Saturday, 4:15 pm: Three 24-oz beers later, we hit the road for the party. The Cardinals are down 5-0.
Saturday, 4:45 pm: We get to the party and crack open a few beers. The Cardinals have made it 5-4. I think maybe I should not watch the game.
Saturday, 5:10 pm: We sneak up onto a rooftop overlooking Wrigley. I have to admit… it’s pretty awesome. I’d love to watch a whole game like that sometime, especially with the all-you-can-consume food and drink.
Saturday, 6:00 pm: I watch the Cubs clinch their postseason berth. Whoopity doo.
Saturday, 6:30 pm to 9:30 pm: We stand around outside the apartment building, drinking and watching passers-by take pulls off a 3-story beer bong and make general merriment.
Saturday, 6:37 pm: I send a text to my friend saying that the Cards can still win the Wild Card. He responds, “Yeah, if that happens I will have a ring ready for you.” You heard it here first, guys. I am engaged if the Cardinals win the Wild Card.
Saturday, 10:00 pm: Beer and pizza, then bedtime.
Sunday, 12:30 pm: Back at the Dark Horse for NFL football. Weird Canadian who doesn’t think girls understand football is nowhere to be seen.
Sunday, 1:00 pm: Order the Dark Horse Burger, which the menu says is the “best burger in Chicago.” That is a lie. My friend Dave asks, “Well then, what’s the best burger in Chicago?” and I respond, “I don’t know. I haven’t had any burgers in Chicago. But I can categorically say that this is NOT it.”
Sunday, 2:00 pm: I go outside to make a phone call and see that a man has tied a dog to a tree nearby. I comment to the doorman that I hope the guy is coming back because it’s rather hot out. The doorman says the guy does this all the time. He ties up his dog, and then goes inside the bar for hours. I am appalled, so we get the dog some water and I pet him for awhile. His name is Pepper. He’s a very sweet dog. People who are mean to animals make me angry.
Sunday, 3:30 pm: I watch Tampa Bay kick an OT field goal to beat the Bears. All my friends leave because they are Chicago fans and are pissed. Sad.
Sunday, 4:15 pm: I get on a bus at Wrigley to go back to my friend Alyssa’s house. The woman next to me gets all snotty because I can’t tell her the status of the Blue Line West of Addison. I’m like, “I don’t live here, crazy lady. Don’t yell at me!”
Sunday, 4:30 pm: The man next to me keeps leaning over to look out the window at the street signs. He keeps… what’s a stronger word than “invading?” Whatever that is, he’s doing it to my personal space. Ya know dude, you could just ASK me what street we’re coming up on.
Sunday, 6:00 pm to 7:30 pm: Laundry at Spin Cycle. They have free wireless and I can work on this post.
Sunday, 8:00 pm: A bar called Pint for dinner and Sunday Night Football. I really enjoy the John Williams Sunday Night Football theme. It makes me want to strap on some pads and hit someone running at full speed. Which, for me, is about 2.6 miles per hour. But still… good music.
Sunday, 9:00 pm: Our waitress is a coked-out lollipop who can’t get our order right, never refills our drinks and then charges us for an appetizer we never got. Muff-stubble girl she is not.
Sunday, 9:30 pm: I have the Parmesan Burger at Pint. It’s not that good, but I can now definitively say that the Dark Horse Burger is NOT the best burger in Chicago.
Sunday, 10:00 pm: Season 2 of The Office. And here is a picture to cap off the weekend. Alyssa and Me in giant Harry Caray glasses.